To the West and Back

I went to visit friends in Mönchengladbach this weekend. It's the same train trip I do multiple times a year, from where I live in Berlin in the far east of Germany, to where I used to live and still have friends in the far west, so it's a familiar and unexciting stretch of track. But this time, a few anecdotes that stood out:


I. The Fruit Seller

The man at the fruit stand by the Alexanderplatz train station asks if I'm from Berlin.

"No, from the U.S."

"Oh," he says. "Good!"

"Good?" I ask.

"Barack Obama..." he smiles.

"Yes," I agree, but don't have time to pursue this interesting line of inquiry (Does the average European on the street still feel as positively about Obama 2+ years on?) because have to run and catch my train.


II. Middle Germany

Absolutely everything in bloom, the trees all green and pink and white. Lots of green fields and wind turbines. There isn't a lot going on in the middle part of Germany.


III. Thank You Football Hooligans

Changing in Duisburg with just a few minutes to get from one platform to the other, I see a horde of police officers corralling a mob of chanting, shouting soccer fans toward... my platform. Oh NO! If they're on my train, I think I'll wait for the next one.


Turns out, though, they're on track 5 and I'm on track 6, so that's okay. Above, you can kind of tell that there's a whole press of people in the background, being hemmed in by a wall of police, but you can't really see them directly. They were wearing yellow and black soccer scarves. And chanting loudly.

Meanwhile, my train is canceled "due to vandalism." Huh, wonder who might have done that.

Below are some auxiliary police, standing guard on the platform opposite where away-team fans, are boarding their train back home. They funnel the two teams' fans out separate exits from the stadium and herd them toward the relevant public transportation, keeping the two groups apart at all times.



IV. It Never Ends

On the trip back, too, I arrive at the station in Mönchengladbach to find it overrun with soccer fans. Different town, different team, but same principle.

The police have set up a sort of checkpoint in the hallway that leads to the platforms, and are arguing with soccer fans who want to bring beer bottles through. I gesture to an officer, asking if I can go to the platform, and he just waves me through.


V. Yelling at Pigeons

At the Duisburg station again, a man shooing a pigeon out of a bakery, yelling at it at surprising length and in great detail, in what sounds like Turkish.